Angel Sanctuary
by monkeygirl77
Summary: Raphael's Infirmary unwittingly becomes a sanctuary for angels during the war in Heaven. Whether they be fledglings, prisoners, or soldiers going AWOL. He takes them all.
1. Chapter 1

There were few places that were left alone throughout the raging war, from the face of the oldest archangels undying wrath on all those he perceived to be enemies; the barracks, training field, the Pavilion, to name a few of those places.

Another just so happened to be the Infirmary. The home of the third archangel, his true home nothing but a memory now, darkened and desolate, he kept himself in his Infirmary where he could tend to the ones who came to him with the care and kindness he was so well known for.

It took some time for the angels to notice, those that hid within their broken homes and demolished buildings, those who snuck around out of sight of the mighty Commander, that when an angel went into the Infirmary, they didn't come back out. There was fear at first, that the Healer had lost himself like the eldest had, and they avoided stepping foot in the Infirmary for some time, dealing with wounds and injuries on their own.

And slowly, those who needed tending to had begun to dwindle, much to the Healer's worry, and he'd stand outside his Infirmary to look around for those he knew needed help but didn't dare think to seek for it.

…

He was sitting at his desk writing in a pile of files, given to him by his older brother for review pertaining to his newest recruits that needed the Healer to sign off on their permission to begin their training, when they fell through the wooden doors of the Infirmary.

They were heavy doors, thick wooden monstrosities, and they were not easy to open.

Still, they crashed through, desperate to be within the one place they could be left untouched. Rumors had spread through them of the asylum that was offered within the Infirmary, even if the Healer wasn't quite aware of the fact that he was offering it when he took you in as his patient and kept you until you were well enough under his own standards.

The Infirmary had become a sanctuary for those afflicted by the war. For those under persecution, for those too young to defend themselves, for those who refused to fight against their morals and went AWOL.

He stood quickly, eyes wide in surprise, at the bodies that lay just within the entrance of his Infirmary. Beaten and bloody, covered in the evidence of torture, heaving for a breath against the cool stone. They wore the ragged tunics and trousers that all prisoners were given at the beginning of their stay within the dreaded looming structure. Stepping out from behind his desk, he raised his hand, staying his Virtues from drawing their weapons, and crossed the threshold to kneel before the two prisoners desperate enough to attempt an escape from Heaven's prison, and choose to come to his Infirmary above all other places, for protection.

Raphael watched them silently, looking from one to the other, taking in their ragged appearance. The one dripped water on his flooring, the other stained the stone with crimson paint, both tortured most horribly. He knew who they were, of course, they all knew who these two were. They had been given the task of guarding The Garden, one at the west gate and the other at the east, and how they had allowed the Serpent entrance. The council had decided their fate, a one sided vote, his oldest brother blaming them for the Morningstar's betrayal and their Father's disappearance, and he'd had thrown them away without hearing anything on the matter, locked them up and threw away the key, leaving them to their horrid fate.

"Gadreel, Abner, what brings you here?"

The one, painting his floor crimson, gave him a pained whine in response to his inquiry. But the other crawled forward, limping even still, and reached for his hand with red and brown hands. He allowed him to take hold of his hand, frowning at the shaking of the younger's hands as he clutched the Healer's hand to his chest, whether the quaking be from the cold he surely felt or the pain, he did not know.

The soaked prisoner, shivering from either shock or temperature, pressed his lips to the back of the Healer's hand. "P—Please t—ta—take u—us….Pl—Please….I b—beg y—you…..."

He nodded, without hesitation, and curled his fingers around the younger angels wrist. "I will take you, Gadreel. You are safe here." He reached out with his free hand to caress the prisoner's cheek. "Let me help you, now."

The archangel looked between the two of them with concern. "Can you stand?"

Gadreel nodded. "I can stand." He turned to gaze at his friend and cellmate. "Abner cannot."

He nodded, they would deal with that matter on its own, and he turned to gaze over his shoulder. "Oren, Zed, would you help him to a bed?" The two Virtues nodded, stepping forward to lift the limp prisoner between them, curling his sliced arms over their shoulders, their arms around his lower back, and helped carry him to the nearest empty bed. "Elijah, put a covering over the bed before they set him down, we are not soiling his blankets." The healer nodded at his command, running off to fetch a thick covering to set down over the blankets, so that his blood would not soil them.

Raphael turned his attention to the remaining prisoner, still clutching to his hand, trusting his healers to care for the other until he could tend to them himself. "Let's get you to your feet, then, careful now, not too fast lest you become dizzy." Gadreel curled his fingers around his hand, and he took that as his permission to pull him up, gliding with him in his time as he pushed himself up with his other hand, stumbling forward once he managed to get to his feet, just on the verge of falling back over, had the archangel not steadied him when he had.

The older angel gave him a look. "Stand, indeed." He turned, gesturing for him to follow with his free hand. "Let us get you into a bed as well." Gadreel nodded, stepping forward silently, leaning into the gentle touch when the Healer's free hand curled around his shoulder. Fingers dug in slightly. "You're absolutely soaked, Gadreel, were you under water?"

He frowned when the younger angel nodded, responding in a quiet tone. "They have a well. They tie my arms over a thick wooden pole. It's hard to breath."

The archangel looked at him in horror. "They drown you?"

He felt his heart grow heavy when the younger angel nodded in affirmation, and gave his shoulder another squeeze, this time in assurance. "You will never suffer that again. You are safe here. We will take care of you." The Healer gestured for the younger healer to lay their own covering over the bed next to Abner, and he guided him to sit on the edge for a moment. "We will get you into warmer, drier, clothing and then we will tend to your wounds."

Gadreel nodded silently, not accustomed to this kindness he has been shown, how little of it there had been. Raphael smiled at him, caressing his cheek again, rubbing his thumb over his cheek bone. "You are safe here, Gadreel, you and Abner both. We will get you fixed up." He leaned forward to press his lips to his glistening forehead. "You are loved here, little brother." And pulled back. "So dearly loved." Gadreel gave the barest of smiles, nodding to his words, and he smiled at him fondly.

Standing, Raphael turned to the healer who had laid the covering down, pulling her close for a moment with an arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Izeriel, will you go fetch a pair of clean tunics and trousers, a towel for drying, for our patient." She nodded silently, squeezing into his side for a brief moment, and stepped away to gather what she was sent for.

Nodding to Gadreel, gesturing to his friend, a silent promise of being right next to him, he turned to stand at the head of the bed they had set Abner down in. Stroking his fingers down the tortured Sentry's neck, he gained his attention, Abner looked up at him with terrified eyes. "You are safe here, little one. No harm shall befall you here. I will help you feel better again." Nodding to his front, he spoke just as gently as before, as to not startle the trembling angel under him, and he stroked his fingers back down his throat. "I'm going to remove your tunic, alright?"

Abner nodded silently, reaching up to grip at the front of the Healer's tunic as he bent forward, he whined softly as his tunic was lifted, pulled away from deep gashes carved into his chest. The Healer was as gentle as he could manage as he lifted the tunic up, guided the prisoners hands out from the sleeves, and lifted his back from the bed slightly to pull the ragged tunic free. He gestured for his Captain to assist with removing his trousers, as he lifted his waist from the bed, allowing Oren to shimmy the sticky trousers off.

"Elijah, pull the curtain around for privacy."

The healer aiding in their tending to the beaten prisoner nodded, placing the cloth barriers around the bed to conceal him with in, leaving the only open place behind the Healers back.

"And fetch a basin of warm water, some sponges with it, mix chamomile into the water. Bring a drying towel too."

Elijah stepped away to fetch the basin and sponges, and the Healer rubbed his fingers over the wounded angels forehead, taking his attention once more. "We're going to get you cleaned up so that we may treat your wounds, alright, the chamomile will help you relax and aid with the pain." He gestured forward. "You know Oren." The Virtues Captain waved, smiling in greeting, when he turned his wide eyes to look at him. "Him and Elijah are going to give you a sponge bath. It may sting a bit, most of these are still rather fresh, but it will help keep infection from setting in."

Abner nodded silently, closing his eyes when the Healer leaned forward, letting out a deep breath when he felt warm lips press to his temple. "You are safe here, little brother. You are loved in this place. We will take care of you now." He reached a shaking hand up to curl around the back of the Healer's neck, licking his lips, his voice came out as a faint whisper. _"Thank you."_

Raphael smiled, and kissed his temple once more, leaning over him to look into his eyes. "You are most welcome, Abe."

He nodded to Oren, and Elijah at his reappearance, to wash him gently and with care.

Stepping out from behind the blinds, he crossed back over to Gadreel's side, having been cleaned up himself, his wounds tended to by Izeriel, and helped into a dry tunic and a clean pair of trousers. The Sentry sat on the edge of his bed quietly, staring at something on the floor before him, or, perhaps, lost in dark thoughts. He curled a gentle hand around the back of his head, the younger looked up at the sensation of the gentle touch and met his eyes in silence.

"Gadreel, you've been so strong for such a long time, taking all this suffering and still managing to carry your beloved friend all this way." He stroked a finger down the bridge of his nose. "Let it go now, little brother, let it all flow freely." He smiled to him comfortingly. "There is no judgement for shedding tears."

"It is weakness. Vulnerability that will be used against you." He shook his head. "I can't."

Raphael shook his head. "It is _strength_. To show how you truly feel. To be yourself." He nodded in assurance. "You can. You _should_."

Gadreel stared at him for a long moment, and he stared right back, watching as those brilliant blue eyes began to shimmer with unshed tears. He pulled him forward, into his stomach, when the first sob broke free. He rubbed at the back of his head, at his shoulders, as he shook with the force of his sobs, held back for far too long, the result of so much pain and sorrow. Slowly, the younger angels arms lifted, his fingers curling into the back of his tunic, and he heaved a deep anguished sob. "That's it, 'Reel." He stroked through the hair on the back of his head, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. "That's it." His sobs slowly faded, after such a long span of time, and when he was sure the last of them had been cried, he curled his fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him back softly.

Rubbing the tear tracks away with gentle fingers stroking over his cheeks, he moved his hands to caress his cheeks tenderly, smiling down to him comfortingly. "Does that feel better, 'Reel?" The younger angel sniffled softly, nodding his head in silence, and lifted his arm to rub the back of his hand under his nose. Raphael stayed his hand gently, shaking his head, as he turned for the table next to him. He pressed a soft piece of cloth against his nose. "Blow." He wiped his nose clean when he could blow no more.

Guiding him back, around to lay under the warm blankets of the bed, he tucked them up under his chin.

"You rest now, alright?" He stroked his hair back from his eyes. "I am here if you need me. We all are. You are cared for here. We will take care of you now."

Gadreel nodded, his eyelids drooping, and curled down against his pillow. Comforted by the gentle feeling of fingers stroking through his hair, and by the warmth of the presence, staying by his side as he drifted off unto the grasp of sleep's hands.

Raphael smiled down at him, stroking his fingers down the side of his smooth face, and stood from the side of the bed.

Beside them, the blinds had been removed, a new pair of trousers slipped onto the other Sentry's waist, a tunic over his head, laying lightly over thick bandages wrapped around his chest. Oren sat in a chair at his bedside, holding one of his hands between both of his, stroking the fingers of his left hand over the back of Abner's hand, watching silently as his patient slept peacefully before him.

"How does he fair?"

His Captain looked up at his approach. "He is beaten badly. We put some salve on the fresh ones and bound them. There was a break to his leg, which is probably why he needed help moving, that we splinted and bound." Oren shook his head, looking back down to his younger brother's peaceful features, blissfully taken into sleep's comforting hands. "I'm surprised they managed to get all the way here."

"Indeed." Raphael nodded, looking between them both, and turned back to his Captain. "Stay with them for a while and then make your rounds between the beds." The younger healer nodded at the command. "And Oren?" he looked up at him. "If anyone comes asking about them, come get me immediately."

"Yes sir."

…

A knocking to his Infirmary door had him standing once more from his desk, looking in on the two Sentry's as he passed them, he crossed the threshold to answer the call at his door. He reaches for the blade he keeps hidden under his smock, and pulls the thick wooden door open, surprise blindsides him for a moment.

"Nisroc."

There stood the Captain of the Powers, and behind him, stood his men.

"Healer."

Nisroc bows his head in respect, greeting him softly, hope shining in his bright eyes.

"What can I do for you, Nisroc?"

The Power shuffles slightly, unlike his assured attitude he normally carried with him, and gestured to his men behind him. "We came to seek you out." Raphael tilted his head slightly in confusion. "We come in hopes that you would take us in."

He narrows his eyes slightly, as though unsure on whether or not it was a trick, that they were there in an attempt to retrieve Abner and Gadreel. "Why?"

It pained him to talked about it, but the Healer had to be sure, his priority was ensuring his patients safety.

Nisroc rubbed at his forehead lightly. "I love my Commander. I love him with all my heart." When he opened his eyes, he looked as tired as one could be, tired and broken. "But I cannot follow his orders any longer. They go against my heart. I cannot do it."

"What ails you?" Raphael looked between them all. "I can not take you into my care if you have no ailments. I am a Healer. Not a Guardian."

The Captain nodded, turning to gesture towards his men, pointed two out in particular. "Titus has an old shoulder wound. The tension will not leave him. He can barely move his arm without pain." And to the other. "Puriel has had a reoccurring headache for nearly a month." Nisroc turned to him, his eyes begging where his words could not. "We swear allegiance to you, sir. Please take us in?"

"They have ailments." He looked pointedly to the two behind him. "And the rest of you have broken hearts." The Healer nodded firmly. "I can fix you all."

Raphael stepped aside, opening the door wider, and nodded to them in a grant of entrance. "Come in." he nodded as they each thanked him for his mercy, ducking in passed him, and waited silently for instruction as he closed the great wooden door behind them. He strode through them, they parted for him with haste, and snatched both Puriel and Titus up by the wrist.

"Come." They followed after him dutifully, to a row of empty beds, and two waiting healers. There was unease at their appearance and the unease was a feeling they could not place blame on them for, it was meant to be after the things they had done under orders.

"Aban, mix together a mug of warm water and catnip." He turned to look at Puriel closely, and the medic averted his eyes. "And some sugar cane." He pat the medics cheek lightly. "Because I am so fond of you, little Puri." He turned to look at Titus a moment. "And a small dish of pineapple." The Power looked confused, and he squeezed his hand, sparing him a look. "Bromelain. It resides within pineapple. It will help with the soreness." He smiled fondly. "And it is a tasty treat."

The healer nodded, stepping off to fetch what he had been sent for, nodding to them as he passed to do as he was instructed. He stopped before the other healer, the Powers halting behind him silently, and she smiled to them in greeting.

Raphael smiled to her fondly. "Brakiel, could you fetch us a few pairs of clean tunics and trousers?"

She bowed her head slightly, stepping between Puriel and Abraxos, to go for what she was sent to gather.

He nodded, sitting the one on the bed on the right and the other on the bed to the left, and turned to face the rest. "Pick which bed you'd like." The Healer pointed to the two basins of water on the table just before the beds, and to some folded linen cloths. "There is some basins of warm water. Clean yourselves up a bit. Brakiel will return shortly with new clothes for you all." He looked back to them all, giving them each a look, one by one. "You will change and get some rest. You are not soldiers within these walls. You are our patients. You will rest and recover. We will care for you now."

Raphael looked down at the medic. "You will drink it all, little Puri, I know you well. Not a single drop left." And spared Titus the same. "The same for you, Tus. I want it all drank."

He nodded in assurance, stepped forward to leave them for the moment, and stopped at Nisroc's side for a brief moment. He rubbed at his shoulders lightly, massaging at a knot that had formed there, and smiled when the mighty Captain sighed in comfort and turned closer to him. "Relax, little Nis, you are safe here with me."

"You will send us back?"

The Healer hummed, shaking his head lightly, massaging at another knot he found. "Broken hearts can take extensive time to heal." He spared him a smile. "No. I think I will keep you all until there is not a single scar left. Relax, Nisroc, take a deep breath and calm yourself. You are under my care now. You are virtually untouchable." He stilled his fingers, noting the Power's soft noise of protest, and smiled again when it brushed passed his ears. "No soldier returns to battle without my clearance. I don't intend to give it for some time to come. You are safe here. Let yourself rest. Let yourself be cared for."

Raphael smiled in slight amusement, digging his fingers in again, and the Power gave a soft sigh at the feeling. "I have to check on a few others. But I will return. And we will rid you of all these tension knots that have formed."

The Captain smiled, looking down for a moment as his face heated slightly. "Thank you, sir."

"Always, little brother." He took a deep breath, and the Power looked back up at him, a small smile gracing his features. "And, don't call me _'sir'_, you may call me anything you like, but it will not be _'sir'_."

"Yes, big brother." Nisroc gave a small smile in return. "Thank you."

The Healer smiled at him, patting his cheek lightly, and waved to the beds. "Of course. Go, get yourself cleaned up, Brakiel will be back in just a moment, get yourself changed and into bed. I will return shortly, and we will work on those knots that have formed."

True to his word, the Healer walked off to tend to other patients under his care, he helped one sit up to take a drink. Curled another blanket around the shivering form of another. Rebandaged some wounds. Did all the things that a healer did when it came to tending to their patients.

Brakiel returned a moment later, arms full of tunics and trousers, and stopped before each Power for them to take a set, smiling all the while. They changed slowly, shedding from their battle worn suits to their new clean clothes, and washed up in the basins silently, as to not disturb the sleeping patients around them.

After her, Aban returned with the two drinks he had been sent for, passing the one to Puriel and the other to Titus, before collecting their old clothes and disappearing with them.

As he drank, Brakiel rubbed at Titus's shoulder, easing the tension free gently. She giggled softly when the mighty Power groaned in comfort as the tension slowly dissolved. Helping him lay back when he finished his drink, placing an extra pillow under his shoulders, he smiled and thanked her quietly. Brakiel returned his smile and nodded silently. "If you need me, I'll be over there." She pointed to the small desk just a pace away from their beds.

Just as he said he would, the Healer returned some time later, checking on the two who had fallen asleep, Titus and Puriel stood no chance against his concoctions. Abraxos was close to dropping off with them, his eyes slowly closing, and he sat on the edge of his bed gently.

He brushed his fingers through his hair softly. "Go to sleep, Abe, you're in a safe place here. Close your eyes and rest." He stayed with him until his eyes did close, brushing his fingers through his hair, and his breathing evened out.

Then he returned to the Captain's side. Nisroc was laying on his stomach, his arms curled under his head, over the pillow, and he groaned lightly when the Healer sat next to him and dug the heels of his palms into the rough patch just under his shoulders. "We will start here."

It wasn't until the next morning that Michael stormed into his Infirmary, demanding that his Powers return to their positions and tasks, they looked up at him in alarm at his approach, but the Healer was quick in appearing before them, cutting off his stride to his legion.

They had sworn allegiance to him, and they were his patients, Raphael let no one touch his patients.

"Brother, what brings you here?"

Michael gestured to his Powers over his shoulder. "I am here for my legion. They are AWOL. They must return to their positions and orders immediately."

The younger archangel shook his head. "They will do no such thing."

"Who are _you _to tell me what I may or may not do with _my _Powers."

Raphael glared at him in rage and poked a harsh finger into his older brothers chest. "They are my _patients_. They will do no such thing. They will stay."

The older archangel fumed, looking at him incredulously. "Your _patients_! They are not wounded!"

"Who are _you _to tell _me_, the _Healer_, what another's _ailment_ might be." Raphael poked him in the chest again, zapping him with his grace as his temper snapped violently, advancing a step, and in turn, forcing the elder to take one back. "If _I _say that they are _wounded_, then they are _wounded_." He forced the older archangel back another step, Michael may have been older, but not even he would try the third born son's shocking temper. Raphael was a danger to anyone when they incited his temper. Even him. "And you wouldn't _dare _take one of _my _patients from _me_."

Michael was fuming, he looked over the Healer's shoulder for one heated moment, and then turned his gaze back to the younger archangel. "_Very well_. As soon as they are _cleared _for battle you _will_ return them to me." He nodded in turn when the younger archangel gave him a sharp nod of affirmation, turning on his heel to march out, Raphael watched him go silently. His temper was still rolling, anger still pulsating through his muscles, and gestured for his Virtues to close the doors once more as he himself turned on his heel to return to what he had been doing before being interrupted.

As he passed, the Powers each heard him mutter. _'That'll never happen.' _And they exchanged glances. Relief pouring over them individually, the Healer was refusing to let them go, refusing to allow them to face their Commander's rage for leaving his side, disobeying orders, for going AWOL.

…

After the incident with between the two archangels, witnessing his Powers abandoning his side in such a way, and knowing what his brother was doing, Michael posted guards at the entrance of the Infirmary. They were to capture any who tried and get themselves within the walls, under the Healer's care, and take them immediately to the Prisons.

Raphael was not wrong, his patients were his to do what he wanted with alone, no one else had any say over them.

And he knew that.

So, if he wanted to play these games, then Michael would play his hand as well, they would see who would win this battle between them.

Raphael knew of course, about the guards posted outside his Infirmary, and though it hurt him to know that others would be punished for coming to seek aid, he still had patients he must care for within his Infirmary.

There was more then one entrance into the Infirmary.

Michael only knew of one.

But there was more then one entrance. There were a few built into the sides of the Infirmary, leading in from secret passages, and one in the back, within the cave that was the washroom, built into the rock wall behind the waterfall. It wasn't used, because of the ill placement on his part, as it led directly into the pool below.

He hadn't thought anyone knew of it, not until the choir elder turned up with two fledglings, one clutching at each hand, the three of them dripping water on the stone flooring beneath them.

Raphael dropped his writing quill at his sudden appearance, eyes wide in disbelief, others turned at their appearance from around the Infirmary.

"Jeremiah?"

The choir elder nodded, pushing the two little fledgings forward, and he looked down to them in surprise. "I come to ask if you would be willing to take our fledglings under your care?"

As he had with everyone who came to him with that request, and had no physical ailments, despite them being fledglings, he still asked. "What ails them?"

Jeremiah looked exponentially saddened as he answered. "Everything." He looked about ready to get to his knees. "I beg you, older brother, do not let them suffer for the crimes we have made." The only crime they had made was choosing to join Lucifer's choir, but the fledglings would be persecuted for a choice that had been made for them at creation, there was truly no crime that had been committed by any of them.

"Yes. Yes, I will take them." He stood from the chair he sat on, slowly coming out from behind the desk he sat at, reaching for the two little fledglings. Jeremiah urged them forward, and they stared at him for a moment, before jumping forward to clutch at the archangel's hands. The only archangel who hadn't betrayed them all. "Will you be staying with them?"

Both fledgling's eyes widened when he shook his head. "I must stay with my choir. I cannot abandon them. I needed to ensure our fledglings would be taken care of first." He stepped back a step. "There is a rumor that the Pantheon will be raided come twilight. I could not bear the thought of our fledglings being taken to the Prisons. But I must stay with my choir. They will need me."

"Miah no!", the little female fledgling reached out for him, but the archangel tightened his grip on her hand, to keep her from jumping forward. "Stay!"

Jeremiah looked as though he may cry, it was a heart wrenching moment, and he knelt slightly to address the two little fledgling. "Be good for me, Akeelah, Jezaniah."

"Miah! Stay!" Akeelah reached out for the choir elder, and he took her hand gently, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Be brave for me, my little 'Keelah."

Raphael knew in that moment, Jeremiah was leaving his charge as well, he knew who it was too, from the way little Akeelah pulled against his grip, crying out for the choir elder to come back. To stay with them. Calling his name, yanking as much as she could on her arm, tears pouring from her little eyes as the choir elder disappeared into the shadows of where he had come and didn't return. She heaved a harsh sob, finally managing to tear her hand from his grip, and ran forward for her guardian.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Nisroc stepped out of the washroom, into which Jeremiah had disappeared, and managed to scoop up the fledgling before she could dart around him. She struggled, oh how she struggled, and fought against his hold, but he held her tight and close. Soon the fight left her small form, and she hung limply against his front, sobbing for her guardian to return, it broke all of their hearts.

The Healer bent to pick the other fledgling up. "Hello, little one." The little male fledgling smile up at him. "Hi. I'm Jezaniah, but you can call me Jeza, like 'Keelah does."

"I thank you, little Jeza, you can call me Rapha."

"Okay, Rapha." The little thing pointed to his friend. "Keelah's really sad now."

"Yes, she most certainly is, but will take care of her." He poked the fledgling in the belly. "Just like we'll take care of you." Jeza giggled when he poked him in the belly, and he smiled, poking him again.

The sobs slowly died down to whimpers, and soon those evened out, the fledgling hanging limply against the Power's shoulder as sleep finally took her into it's comforting hold. Nisroc rubbed at her back soothingly, crossing to stand at his side, Raphael looked around to see the fledglings red teary face, peaceful in slumber.

"I think we're going to take a nap together, big brother."

"Yes." The Healer nodded in agreement, motioning him in the direction of his bed, humming sadly at the glistening cheeks of the fledgling as he walked passed them. "You both could use a good nap."

Jezaniah watched the Power walk off with his sleeping friend, and turned to look up at the Healer, with wide curious eyes. "Are we gonna be safe now?"

"Yes. You're safe here."


	2. Chapter 2

The creaking of one of the windows being pulled open filled the silence of the Infirmary, heads turned to look at the mysteriously open window, staring at it with mystified confusion. Raphael held his hand out, staying his Virtues from approaching the open window, and drew his archangel blade out from where he kept it in the leather belt wrapped around his waist. He peered out the window cautiously, looking first to the sides, and then downwards.

Hands appeared on the windowsill, and the Healer heaved an exasperated sigh, folding the blade back into his belt, he leaned over the windowsill. He pulled the owner of the hands up, and soon arms appeared, wrapping around the archangel's middle, as he was lifted up into the Infirmary through the window.

He curled himself tightly around the Healer, pressing his ear deep into the archangel's chest, as he was set back on his feet. The chest under him rumbled with a deep hum, and arms encircled around him in turn, holding him tightly and secure.

"Raph, please take me in! Please! I don't wanna go! Please!"

A hand stroked down the back of his head. "Go where?"

"The Prisons! I don't wanna go there! Please! Please take me in!"

The hand stilled for a moment, curling around the back of his neck comfortingly. "What ails you, little bumblebee?"

He clung to the Healer with all he was worth. "My heart!"

"Is you heart broken, Zaveriel?" He smiled softly when the young messenger nodded against his chest. "Broken hearts are most serious ailments." He bent over the little messenger, hugging him tightly against his chest, and kissed the top of his head. "I will take you in, little bumblebee." Zaveriel nodded silently, pressing himself closer, and the archangel curled his hand around the back of his head.

Raphael turned to his Captain. "Oren, will you continue to work on the files at my desk?" He looked back down to his little messenger. "I have a new patient to tend to." The Virtue nodded silently, looking at his younger brother with great concern, it was unlike the excitable messenger to be so quiet. "Of course, brother."

Trusting his Captain to run things while he was preoccupied, he gently turn himself and the young messenger around. "Let's go get you some clean clothes." He guided the distraught messenger away, curled close against his side, for the cupboards on the far right wall. Zaveriel walked with him, as silent as the night he had crept through, clutching to his tunic as he pressed himself as close as he could. He rubbed at his shoulder tenderly, reaching up with his free hand to open the cupboard doors, reaching for a clean tunic and a pair of trousers.

Tucking the clean clothes under his arm, he guided the shaken messenger back around, heading towards the washroom now. "We'll get you cleaned up before putting you in clean clothes."

They cross silently over the threshold of the Infirmary, the messenger still clutching at his tunic, walking through the stone archway that led to the magnificent washroom built behind the Infirmary's main room.

Zaveriel whines lightly when he pulls his hand away from clutching at the front of his tunic. "It's alright, little bumblebee, you are mine now. No one can take you anywhere from here on." Raphael gestured to the table carved into the side of the wall. "I'm merely going to get you some soap. Do you see the bench there?" Zaveriel nodded. "Then you watch me while I walk over to get you some soap, alright?" Zaveriel nodded again.

He watched the Healer pull the hand curled in the back of his tunic away, and stepped away from his side to fetch what he was after, Zaves watched him gather up a bar of lavender soap and a cleaning rag, reaching for the hooks to grab him a towel for drying, and turn around to return to his side.

Raphael tucked the towel over his arm, with the tunic and trousers, and looked down to his little bumblebee. "Strip out of those clothes for me."

The younger angel nodded, undoing the leather belt from around his waist first, depositing it in the Healer's outstretched hand, and bent slightly to pull his tunic up and over his head, bending to yank his trousers off, depositing those in the archangel's outstretched hand as well. His old guardian passed him the washing rag and lavender soap, nodding to the pool of warm water, curling the soiled clothes into his arm. "In the water with you. Take these and wash yourself up."

"Will you stay?"

He nodded. "I'm not going anywhere."

Zaveriel stared into his eyes, as though searching for deception, and when he found none he turned and waded into the pool, until it came up to his shoulders, and began to lather up the rag in his hand with the lavender soap.

The Healer watched him for a brief amount of time, before turning to return to the table carved into the wall of his Infirmary's washroom, depositing the soiled clothes into a waste basket sitting there. He would get him new clothing when the time was right, and for now he would wear what they had for him here, he turned to lean against the edge of the table to watch his nearly grown charge bath himself.

He watched the young messenger duck under the water to rinse the soap from his hair, smiling to himself in fond amusement when he rose again, shaking the water from his curls, just as he had always done when he was a small fledgling. Zaves splashes water in his face to wash away the soap that dripped down, to ensure it would not burn his eyes when he opened them, and when he did, he turned immediately over his shoulder to look for him.

The smile that lit his features at the sight that he was still there, as he waved his fingers lightly in greeting, was almost heartbreaking.

Zaves stood from where he sat in the warm pool, wadding back out again, to be curled in the thick warm towel draped over the Healer's arm. He curled it around his shoulders securely, and draped a second one over his head, cradling his cheeks in his hands. "It's like you're a fledgling again."

"I'm always gonna be your fledgling."

"You most certainly will." He leaned forward to kiss his nose lightly, and he scrunched up his face at it, just as he had done when he was a small fledgling. "Dry yourself, and get dressed again, my little fledgling."

The young messenger nodded, reaching up to rub the towel covering his head over his dripping curls, then over his face. Raphael stepped away for him to dry himself after his bath, holding out his hand for the towels, and the clothes out in the other, to make the exchange.

Zaves looked up at him when he finished, and he held his arms open for him, in the invitation for an embrace. The young messenger dove forward, ramming into his chest, and wrapped his arms around the archangel's middle as tightly as he could. "You won't let them take me, will you?"

"You go nowhere until I release you." Fingers stroke through his damp curls. "And that's not going to happen anytime soon." Fingers drifted down to his shoulders, and thumbs dug into the tense muscles, he breathed out a deep breath and leaned in closer. "So, relax yourself. I took care of you once. And I will take care of you again."

"Will you rub my back?"

The archangel smiled, leaning down to press his lips to the damp curls. "Yes." Turning them to the archway that led back to the open, spacious, room that was the Infirmary. "Let's get you into bed, and then I will rub your back."

Zaves nodded silently, letting himself be guided out of the washroom, through the archway, and he looked around the quiet night life atmosphere that was the Infirmary. He looked around at the ones that slept soundly, under the Healer's protection from persecution, whether it be soldiers or prisoners or another. His eyes widened as he recognized the one sleeping in the bed to his far left and tugged on the Healer's tunic. "Is that Gadreel?"

"Yes." God's Healer looked over to the sleeping prisoner, they were making such progress, just the other day he had managed to pull a smile from them both. "He somehow managed to break free from his cell. Carried himself and his friend all the way here. They've been here for nearly two weeks now."

Zaveriel nodded, looking around again, smiling at the sight of his fledgling friends sleeping soundly surrounded by slumbering Powers. "They're here too?"

"They come with the same ailment you do too."

He spied Oren walking through the beds along the far right corner, pulling blankets up as he passed, kneeling to listen to whispers from hoarse throats, watching his patients sleep soundly under his protective watch. The Virtue must have finished the files, or given up on them, doing files was boring so he wouldn't blame him if he had given up on them. To the left, Zed stood at a work bench, mixing more tonics together, humming under his breath as he moved around the workshop area to gather the ingredients for the tonics he prepared. To their direct right, Ephraim and Constantine helped the patients under their care drink their sleeping tonics and tucked them in softly when the affects took hold immediately. They passed by Akriel, he reached over to ruffle his damp curls lightly, sparing him a comforting smile as they passed by his side, and the young messenger returned the smile with a small one of his own.

He was led to a made bed, warm blankets pulled down for him, fluffy pillows laying ready for him to lay on. A cup of water sat next to a mug of warm chamomile and sugar cane. "It seems your older brothers have noticed your arrival."

Zaveriel smiled. "They're the best."

"They'll be glad to hear that." He chuckled lightly and guided him forward to the bed. "Lay down, then, and I will rub your back."

The young messenger, the Healer's growing charge, parted from his side to lay overtop the warm thick blankets, sinking into the soft mattress with a sigh, and looked over at his older brother with pleading eyes.

"Oh, don't give me that look." Raphael sat on the edge of the bed. "I already said I would." He leaned forward, digging the heels of his palm into the tense muscles under his shoulders, and Zaveriel groaned in comfort. He arched into the touch as he slowly massaged his way down to his lower back, digging his thumbs into the tense muscle. Zaves sighed deeply, curling around, pressing his nose into the side of the archangels outer thigh.

The Healer stroked his fingers through the damp curls under him. "You're safe here, my little fledgling, no one will take you from me."

"I was so scared, Rapha, they stormed the Aerie and we all split up."

He hummed over his charge's head. "And you thought to run here?"

"I knew that if you took me in nobody could take me _there_."

"You are correct in knowing that." He tugged lightly at his earlobe. "No one can touch you now." He hummed deeply. "No one would _dare _to."

"That's because you're so terrifying when your angry."

"I take that as a compliment, I think."

Zaveriel smiled against his leg, he felt it, and he returned the gesture even without the younger angel seeing it, scratching lightly at his scalp. "Sleep comfortably, you are a patient of mine, no one would dare take you from my custody."

"But what if the Commander and the Wardens come."

"Do you not think he hasn't tried to come for his Powers?" He looked up at them, sleeping soundly, curled together as though a pack of fledglings, their two youngest curled around their Captain. "Not even he would dare take someone from me." He paused his scratching, curling his fingers over the side of his head lightly. "If they are safe in my custody, then you most certainly are, they would have to strike me down before they took any of you from me."

Raphael scratched lightly at the side of his neck, and he scrunched up just a bit, pulling away from the archangel's thigh. "Straighten up now, lay on those pillows there, you need to sleep." Fingers curled around his wrist when he lifted the blankets up to tuck under his chin, and he curled his fingers around the smaller hand, raising it up to press his lips to the back of it. "There is no need to be frightened, my little one, you are among family. You are protected here." He rubbed his thumb over the smooth skin of the back of the young messengers hand. "Would you feel better with one of your older brothers staying with you?"

He knew the young messenger would prefer to have him close, but Zaves knew that he had many duties to attend to around the Infirmary, there was paperwork he must complete to keep his older brother out of his way and complacent in his war drunk mind, and the younger messenger would settle for any one of them.

Zaveriel nodded his head quietly. His guardian smiled at him, and nodded to his silent request, squeezing his fingers as he looked up.

"Akriel?" The Virtue looked up at the sound of his name, reading through the files of the patients under his care, and closed the one he had been looking through. "Would you please come stay with your younger brother."

Zaves watched him, hopeful that he would say yes, as he stood from the desk he had been sitting at. Tracking him as he stepped around the edge of the desk, crossing over to meet at their side, and gave a nod of affirmation. "I'll stay with you, baby brother." Raphael smiled in appreciation, he would stay by his side himself, but he must complete those files for his older brother's complacency. He passed the young messengers hand over to his brother, and Akriel lifted it to press his lips to the smooth skin of the back of the hand, stepping to the side for a moment as the Healer stood from the edge of the bed for him to take up the post himself.

The young messenger scooted to the side as the Virtue sat next to him, still holding onto his hand, and leaned back against the pillows. "Come here, baby brother, I've got you." He lifted his arm slightly, and the younger angel slid underneath it, coming out to lay his head on his chest.

Akriel rubbed his thumb over the back of his smaller hand, their fingers still curled together, and scratched at the side of his head with his free hand.

Raphael smiled at them both, leaning over to kiss the side of his young charge's temple. "Try to sleep, little one, your brother won't leave your side."

The Virtue nodded. "I'm here, baby brother, close your eyes for me." Zaves stared ahead for a moment, before he complied, closing his eyes lightly, sinking down against his brothers chest, they knew how to calm him down peacefully, they knew how to make him sleepy. That's what big brothers were for. Akriel pulled him closer, scratching softly at his scalp, and he sighed in comfort. "Go to sleep, baby brother, I've got you."

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Raphael stepped away as Zeb joined them, finished with his tonics, and smiled down to the young messenger in greeting. "It's alright, baby brother." He took up the mug of chamomile and sat on the edge of the bed. "We'll take care of you."


	3. Chapter 3

The silence of the night, the soft crackling of the candles burning, was interrupted by the sound of a dramatic commotion. His peaceful writing comes to a silenced halt as he listens in on the commotion, weighing the odds of his necessity to intervene of not, and when he hears the distinct crack of a nose breaking, he decides that his intervention is immediately needed.

Heaving a deep sigh, he turns the corner of the doorway, out into the hall that leads to the spacious room of the Infirmary. He recognizes the figure standing amidst a circle of his Virtues, fists clenched, waiting for another one to rush forward in an attempt to subdue. Oren's clutching at his nose, red blood dripping down his fingers, clearly taken by surprise at the sudden attack from the smaller being.

He knows now that it was a good idea on his part to decide to intervene.

God's Healer stops first at his Captain's side. "Let me see, Oren."

The Virtue moves his hands as his commander takes hold of his chin, turning his head this way and that, examining the break closely. It was a bad one, bruises were forming under his eyes, crooked in direction. There had been immense pressure and force in the impact. "What have I said about fighting?"

There's no response to his inquiry.

Raphael nods. "Go sit over there." He gestures to the chair next to his desk. "I will tend to your nose in a moment."

His Captain nods, turning in the gestured direction, and the archangel heaves a sigh as he turns to the others behind him. Their new guest still sits on the balls of their feet, fists clenched, looking between them all for any sign of attack. At his raised hand, his Virtues step back from them, and he rests his hands on his hips.

"Gzel, what have I said about fighting?"

Her vivid eyes turn to stare at him with that emotionless gaze she's known for, emotions are a weakness and there is no place for weakness in this world, that's what she says, and it's sad in his opinion, because in this world they live in there is no truer statement ever made.

"Gzel."

Her position falters slightly at his displeased tone. "To use my words."

"And what did you not do?"

"Use my words."

He nods in approval. "Now, without attacking another one of my Virtues, tell me what you want." He points a finger at her in final warning. "Use your words."

She straightens slightly, he's the only one who asks her what she wants, she likes him. Raphael knows that the young angel likes him, knows that she trusts him, it's a relationship he keeps a careful watch over with his volatile younger sister.

"I want you to take me in."

"And this is how you convince me?" He gestures to his Captain. "Attacking one of my own."

"He started it."

Raphael crosses his arms. "Gzel."

"I'm sorry I didn't use my words."

"It's not alright." He opens his arms for her. "But we're working on it." She drops from her stance, angry fists releasing their grip, and she steps forward into his embrace. He curls his arms around her, pulling her close into his chest, resting his chin on her head. He feels her arms slowly raise from their place at his sides, to curl around his middle, fingers clutching at his tunic now instead of into tight fists. "What ails you, baby sister?"

Gzel is one of the true victims of this war his brother is leading, taken from being an innocent youth with the world at her fingertips, to an emotionless machine that only thought of fighting, beating others down before they could beat her down, seeing everyone as an enemy who hasn't attacked yet, thus she would attack them first, before they had the chance to. Where she saw friends, she saw foes, and where she saw foes, she attacked. She trusted no one. No one but him.

Raphael had a way with them all. He was gentle and kind, never pushing too hard or too fast, he was the Healer. Everyone trusted him. Everyone loved him. Even in these harsh times they lived in now. Many whispered about the sanctuary the Healer offered within his Infirmary, using his claim over his patients to keep them from harms way, many made plans to make their way into the Healer's safe haven, the one place they were truly safe from the repercussions of the war raining down on their backs. Most, mainly those too ambitious, got themselves caught trying to get their way through the guards.

You had to be smart though. You had to use patience, know when the right moment came to pass to make your break for it, you had to be constantly aware of your surroundings. Gzel was smart. Gzel was aware of everything around her.

Everyone knew, those hiding on the outside hoping for the refuge of the Healer's domain, that you were only permitted to stay if you had an ailment. He was a Healer, they knew this, he wasn't a Guardian. You needed to have an ailment if you were to have any semblance of a chance of being taken under his care.

"I'm broken." Gzel had an ailment. "My heads bad."

He pets a hand down the back of her head, stroking his fingers through her short dark hair, and he pulls her away slightly. "Your head is _not _bad." He rubs his thumb over her forehead. "Your head is confused."

Gzel was someone who would fall under Rahael or Akriel. Many of the younger angels would be forever afflicted by this war they were involuntarily thrust into. Paranoid Personality Disorder. Pervasive distrust and suspicion of others and their motives. Unjustified belief that others are trying to harm or deceive you. Hesitancy to confide in others due to unreasonable fear that others will use that information against you. Gzel was not broken, her head was not bad, it was just extremely confused.

She looked up at him with her vivid eyes, an emotion shining in them, hope, hope and trust. "Can I stay with you, big brother?"

Raphael nodded down to her. "Yes, you can stay, I will take you in." he poked her nose lightly and it bought him one of those small rare smiles. "But you must promise to keep from attacking anyone."

"But what if—"

"They are not here to harm you." He rubbed her back softly. "Do you trust me, Gzel?"

He was one of the very few beings that she would nod to the question of trust without hesitation.

"Then, trust me when I say you are safe with us here."

She nodded. "Okay."

"And, I want you to talk to Akriel every day for me. You can talk about anything you'd like. But you must do it every day." He would not be swayed on this. "Can you do that for me?"

Gzel nodded. "Okay."

"Good girl," he rubbed her back one last time and turned them around. "Now, first we're going to fix Oren's nose. And then we'll get you some new clothes and situated in a bed, alright?" Gzel nodded in approval, unfolding from around him when he opened his arms again, taking his hand instead, when he held it out to her.

The Virtue looked up as they approached, his fingers still curled around his broken nose, and despite the blood and the pain, he still smiled at them in greeting.

Raphael tugged his newest patient around to stand beside his Captain, Oren raised an eyebrow at the action, and turned to look up at the younger angel standing beside him. "Nice right hook." The compliment came out a bit muffled due to his particular injury. Gzel looked down silently. "Sorry." She was supposed to use her words. He said to use her words. She would use her words. He smiled despite the ache and reached up to poke her in the belly. "Don't sweat it." The archangel smiled at their exchange, pulling the chair out from behind his desk, sitting before his Virtue and pulled his hands away.

Oren grimaced in pain when he curled his fingers around the broken edge. "Take a deep breath." Just as he finished inhaling, his commander yanked his nose around, righting it in place, and he yelped at the sudden action. Glaring at his commander from over his hand, Raphael smiled at him, and curled his fingers over the broken feature. His grace was warm, tingled like static, as it seeps in his skin. He didn't do it often, heal his patients himself, preferring for them to learn from their injury through the recovery process, and there were things that would heal sooner on their own in the own right, but he did it in special circumstances.

"Akriel." God's Healer called over his shoulder. Gzel watched as another man approached them, at the sound of his name being called, and stared at him as he smiled to her in greeting. "This is Gzel." Raphael looked up to his young 'work in progress'. "Gzel, this is Akriel." He looked between them both carefully. "He's going to be taking care of you. Go with him, and he get you situated into bed, you can trust him."

"You do?"

The archangel nods his head. "I do."

"Okay."

Akriel holds his arm out to her, welcoming her into his side, and she slowly folds herself against him, just a tad cautiously. "Hello. We'll go this way." He trusted her with his Virtue, Akriel could sense a mental affliction from a mile away, he knew how to treat them, with care but not too overbearing. He couldn't hear what was being said, he knew his medic was doing the talking, but it offered a level of trust that she needed in someone she was going to be talking to everyday. He smiled as he watched her arm slowly wind up around Akriel's lower back.

…

"Heyheyhey!" Gzel ignores the voice coming up behind her, ignores the boots jogging over the stone flooring, and stares at the one before her with her vivid emotionless eyes with raised tight fists, ready to strike out at any sudden movements. "It's okay. No, no. Remember, our words." Hands reach around her from behind, big warm hands, and they curl around her fists, pulling them back against her chest. "Let's use our words."

Gzel feels warm. She's being pulled back against a warm chest. Her hands are warm in the ones that curl around her fists. "He took my pillow."

She feels a bearded chin rub against her ear. "He's just changing it out for a new one." One of the hands stretch out to point, pulling her fist forward with it, he refuses to let them go until the tension leaves her small body. "See, Inca's got you a new pillow."

"A new pillow."

"Yes, see, a new pillow." He squeezes her fists tightly. "Can we unclench our fists?" He pulls her fist back in again. "Let's relax our fingers, okay?"

Gzel stares at the other angel, Inca, for a long moment. The healer, who had come over with the simple intention stares at her in fear, the beard rubs against her ear again as he nods, and Inca quickly deposits the pillow into place and darts off. She slowly calms down, the tension slowly but surely melting away, and her fingers loosen from their clenched fists under his hands. "Sorry, Akriel."

"No, no. It's okay. We're working on it." He slowly weaves his fingers between hers. "But you did so good." And he turns her around to face him. "You didn't attack him, did you?"

"No."

"Then, there's nothing to be sorry for." He smiles down at her. He's so nice to her. He's like big brother. He talks to her and spends time with her. Gzel likes Akriel. Gzel trusts Akriel. Akriel is nice and kind and understanding and never yells or gets mad or anything. "You may have forgotten your words, but you didn't hit him. You did so good."

Gzel looks up at him and he smiles again, earning a small smile from his patient from the gesture, and she leans forward to rest against his chest, tucking herself under his chin. She listens to his heart beat, feeling him rest his chin lightly on top of her head, and hums softly when his arms circle around her and hold her tight. "Do you want to go talk?"

"Yes." She nods against his chest. "I want to talk."

…

"Okay, today we're going to work on emotions."

Gzel stares at him from her position on her bed, sitting cross legged in front of her pillow, and he sits in a chair next to her, resting forward with his elbows on his knees. "Okay."

"Okay, we'll start easy." Akriel smiles at her encouragingly. "We'll start with anger. Tell me what makes you mad. What gets your blood really boiling."

She thinks on it a moment, she wants to make sure she answers it right, she doesn't want to answer it wrong and make Akriel upset at her.

"There's no right or wrong. It's all up to you."

Gzel looks up at him with wide eyes, surprised that he knew what she was thinking, and Akriel chuckles lightly. "I'm good at reading people. No right or wrong answer. What makes you mad?"

She nods and thinks. She doesn't know what makes her feel mad, she tries not to feel anything, feeling nothing is better than feeling something and getting hurt. "Michael makes me mad."

Akriel laughs softly. "Michael makes e_veryone _mad. What else?"

"When people touch my stuff. That makes me mad. And….And when people I don't know touch me. That makes me mad too…... And when fledglings get hurt. That makes me really mad. When people tell me that I can't do something. That makes me really mad too."

"Everyone your age doesn't like being told they can't do something that they want to do."

She gives him a small smile and he gives on in return.

"Okay, we'll do sad next, what makes you feel sad?"

Gzel hums as she thinks. What makes her feel sad? She's never really felt sad before. She doesn't like feeling things. "When I'm alone. That makes me sad."

"You don't like being alone?"

She shakes her head and he nods thoughtfully. "What else?"

"When it rains. That makes me feel sad too. And…..And when everyone goes away….When people don't want to talk to me…."

"You're doing really good, Gzel. I'm really proud of you." Her eyes bright just a bit. A small spark. "What about afraid. What makes you feel scared?"

"Michael makes me feel scared."

"Michael makes everyone feel scared too. What else, Gzel, what else makes you feel scared?"

Gzel picks at her knee softly, thinking deeply. "Sleeping. I get scared sleeping."

Akriel frowns slightly. "You're scared to sleep?"

"Going to sleep."

He leans forward. "Why are you scared to go to sleep?"

"I'll be alone."

The Virtue hums. "Would you feel better if I stayed with you until you fell asleep?" Gzel nods. She'd like that. No ones ever offered to do that for her before. "Okay, we'll start tonight. What else makes you scared?"

"People I don't know. That scares me. The dark….I'm scared of the dark… Being on my own. Letting people get too close to me. I get scared when people I don't know get too close."

"Do you think they're going to hurt you?"

She nods quietly. "Everyone's going to hurt you."

Akriel frowns again, he's concerned. "Do you think I'm going to hurt you?"

Gzel's eyes widen. "No. No. I know you wouldn't. I like you. You're good."

"Why do you think everyone's going to hurt you?"

She shrugs. "Because they are."

"We'll work on that. We'll make new friends. What makes you feel happy? What makes you smile?"

The younger angel hums. And shrugs. "I don't know."

Akriel hums with her, thoughtfully. "How about this?" he leans forward and squeezes above her knee. "Does this make you smile?" when he squeezes it, she gives a soft shriek, and she jumps slightly, quickly uncurling her legs. "Oh, that created more then a smile, didn't it?" he squeezes her knee again and she shrieks again, pulling her leg out of his reach, feeling a smile slowly come over her. "What about this, too?" he reaches forward, leaning over, and curls his fingers around her ankle to pull her foot towards him. He wiggles his fingers over her sole and she shrieks again, a small giggle escaping her lips, as she yanks her foot free from his loose grasp. "Was that…Was that a _giggle _I heard?"

She shakes her head, eyes wide, smiling in delight and he smiles at the sight that presents itself to him.

"What about this?" He stands slightly, leaning over her, and digs his fingers into her sides. "Does this make you giggle too?"

Gzel falls back against her pillow, giggles mixing with bright melodious laughter, and he chuckles as he move his fingers to wiggle into her belly.

"I think I know what makes you happy, baby sister."


	4. Chapter 4

"How does everyone fair?"

After a long month of taking so many under their wings, they were finally able to congregate and discuss their progress and patients, something that had been delayed with their latest addition. Not that they would turn her away, she needed help, definitely needed another friend, no, they would never have thought to turn her away when she clearly needed cared for.

Oren rubbed at his cheek. "Andrew and Daniel are progressing. Though their insomnia remains in place. I requested a stronger sleeping drought for them." Zed nodded in affirmation, his Captain had requested such a thing, and it was stewing for use later. They all peered over to where the two guards lay sleeping, it took some time for their current sleeping droughts to take effect, but their peace was enough to lighten anyone's heart.

"We're making progress as well." Akriel strokes his fingers down the side of his latest charges head, tucked against his side, Gzel stares ahead into a void only she can see. "Aren't we, little friend?" She looks up at him, and he smiles, giving a nod of encouragement. They were still working on using their words, still working on talking over attacking, well, trying to attack. They were a work in progress. "Yes." Akriel's helping. He's so nice. Gzel likes Akriel. Gzel likes being with Akriel. Gzel likes talking to Akriel. She nods slightly. "Yes." They all smile at her, they're still learning to use their words, but it's getting better every day.

Ephraim looks over his shoulder to his sleeping charge. "We're still working on a few things too." Smiling at the peaceful expression that has taken over in sleeps gentle clutch. "Zaves still has a hard time sleeping on his own. He's started falling asleep on his own. But I still have to check on him every thirty minutes or so." Their little messenger mumbled in his sleep, curling his hand up under his nose, turning against the pillow silently.

"The two fledglings are doing surprisingly well." Constantine peered over at the two little ones, sleepy blissfully unaware that they were being talked about, and he smiled fondly at them. "They've found a friend in Nisroc." They slept in his bed with him. One spread out on top of him and the other curled around one of his arms. The Healer smiles at the sight they make together. "He is a good friend to have. He keeps them preoccupied from the thoughts of their missing flock. He keeps them entertained, and though it would go without blame, out from under our feet while we work."

"Speaking of Nisroc," The Healer looks between them all with a seriousness that has them on guard. "He cares immensely for his fellow Powers, they are all brothers, keep a close eye on them all." Raphael looks to one in particular, the one who had walked in on back in the washroom in the midst of a rather violent panic attack and bows his chin. "It was only the other day that I walked in on Haniel in the midst of a rather wrathful panic attack."

"A panic attack?"

"Indeed." He gives a slight nod. "It was a rather nasty one. It took some time to calm him down once more. Keep a close eye on them. I fear they are all rather fearful that Michael will find a way to take them from us. Give them reassurance that they are more then safe under our care."

…

"Akriel?" She sounded nervous. "Can we talk?"

He looked up from what he was doing, stilling the motion of suturing the gash on their newest patients leg, one of the guards had caught him in his pursuit to get within the Infirmary. The Healer had caught him when his leg gave out, declaring him as one of his own immediately, slamming the doors shut behind him as he guided his newest patient to his bed. "Of course, we can." The Virtue smiles at her. "Give me a minute?"

Gzel nods, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, clutching to the sleeves of her upper arms tightly.

Akriel smiles at her again, nodding in appreciation, and returns to his task at hand. There's only four more stitches that need completed and then she can have his undivided attention, just as he knows she needs when they talk, and he focuses on the gash before him with a certain amount of intensity so that he can complete his task and complete it correctly.

He cuts the thread and ties it off securely. The trauma specialist pat his foot lightly. "You're good to go, Maniel, try to take it easy for a while. I'll check on it a bit later."

Maniel nods, thanking him softly, and stands tenderly on his leg to limp back to his bed.

Washing his hands in the basin of water beside the work bench and turns to his personal patient as he dries his hands with a drying cloth, giving her a gentle calming smile. "What are we talking about, today?"

She looks around cautiously. Gzel is always cautious. You always had to be on your guard. Gzel was always on her guard. She'd be ready when the attack came, and she'd fight back, she wouldn't be easily taken down. "Can we talk somewhere else?"

Akriel nods at the request, concern bubbling up in his chest, and he sets the cloth down beside the basin of water. "Of course, we can." He raises his hand to her, an invitation for Gzel to curl into his side, and she steps forward with bare feet timidly. It's only when she curls her fingers into his own sleeve that he feels her hand trembling. "Hey," he rubs his hand over her arm. "It's okay." She looks up at him with deeply emotional eyes. "Let's go talk."

They walk passed the Healer, and he watches them from over his shoulder as they head for his office, humming under his breath as they disappear within the private room, and turns back to watching his patients move about for the day. He trusts Akriel to handle her with care, he knows what he's doing, he'll treat her wounded heart with great care.

Gzel turns from his side when they enter the office, pulling away from his arm curled around her back, and curls her arms back around herself.

He watches her closely for a moment, resting his hands on his hips lightly. "What are we talking about, Gzel?"

She huffs a deep breath, eyes swiveling around the Healer's office, ensuring she knew the ways out if she needed them. Gzel was trapped. She wasn't. She was. Gzel wasn't safe. She was safe. She wasn't. Akriel knew immediately that they were in the midst of an episode, her confused mind was clouding over everything, and she wasn't truly with him at the moment.

"Gzel." She doesn't respond. Gzel knows she should. It's Akriel. Nice, good, understanding Akriel. He's helping her use her words. Akriel doesn't get mad when she forgets to. And she forgets to a lot.

Akriel clears his throat and calls her name a bit louder, one couldn't touch the violently volatile angel when she was having an episode, she was more in tune to lash out. "Gzel. Can you hear me?"

He takes it as progress when she nods in response to his question. "Gzel, you needed to talk, remember?" Gzel nods fiercely and breaks her silence to suck in a deep shaky breath, uncurling from around herself to tangle her fingers in her hair. "Use your words, Gzel, let's talk."

"It's—I—It's happening again! I—I—Akriel!"

The Virtue nods calmly. "What's happening, Gzel, remember your words."

"I—I—the thoughts! I'm having those thoughts again!"

"You're getting that feeling someone's going to attack you again?" He sighs in concern, but nods in determination, Gzel was his responsibility now, he had laid claim over her. "You feel all that pent up energy, all that pent up emotion, all at once?"

Gzel nods fiercely once again, her fingers curled tightly against her head, and breathes in deep bursts.

"You need a way to get all that pent up energy out." Akriel points a finger at her as it dawns on him. An idea has come to him, an idea that could help them both, in so many different ways. "You stay here, alright, I'll be right back." He thrusts his finger at her. "Stay right here."

Gzel nods, watching him with wide eyes as he turns and leaves the office for a moment, listening intently to his footsteps as he walks away from the office. She sucks in a breath, silencing her breathing, she can hear him talking to someone, hears a deep voice respond in kind, and then his boots start hitting the stone flooring again as he turns back for her. Someone follows after him.

Her friend returns first, holding his hand out to stay the other out in the hall, and Akriel smiles at her as he stands just before the doorway. "I have a friend who can help you spend up that built up energy." He bows his head slightly. "Is it okay if he comes in?" Gzel nods again, she trusts Akriel, she knows Akriel wouldn't let anything bad happen, if Akriel says that they're friends then they have to be good. If Akriel trusts them then Gzel should too.

Akriel nods encouragingly. "Okay, Nis you can come in."

Another man steps around the corner. He's got bright eyes and a smile. His hair is wrapped up in a bun on his head. He's tall and looks strong. Like a fighter. Gzel's a fighter. They can be fighters together.

"Gzel, this is Nisroc." Akriel gestures to the man. "Nisroc, this is Gzel."

He's heard about her already, of course, and he smiles in greeting. "Hello, little one." She stares at him with cautious eyes.

Akriel handles the introductions. They're still working on using their words.

"Nisroc, Gzel here is a fighter too."

"I've heard impressive things." Nisroc looks at her carefully and she shifts in her stance lightly. "I believe she broke Oren's nose rather badly. That's quite a powerful blow."

The Virtue turns back to his chosen charge. "Gzel, Nisroc here is the Captain of the Powers. He knows fighters rather well. He's going to help you spend that pent up energy."

Gzel tilts her head to the side. "How?"

Akriel gestures to his friend, and she follows his gesture, Nisroc has adjusted his stance as well. He stares at her intently, his hand held up to his shoulders, palm forward and fingers spread. "Raise your fists." His order is stern, but it's gentle, and she immediately falls into position, raising her fists as she's commanded. He shakes his right hand. "Left." And then his left. "Right." Gzel nods in understanding. She knows orders. Gzel can follow commands. Nisroc doesn't yell his commands. He's firm. But not too firm. Gzel readies herself for his commands. "When I say go, you're going to hook with your right hand, right hand only, and then the left. Right, left, right, left. Do you understand?"

Gzel nods sharply, breaths evening out, blood pounding in her ears, she waits for the command to begin.

Akriel smiles, leans against the edge of the doorframe, and crosses his arms over his chest. He had told her that they'd make new friends.

"Go."

…

"Where, oh where, could my little friends be?"

He heard the giggling from under the bed of course, you would have to be deaf in order for you to miss is, but he continues searching if just for show. He lifts the blankets, looks under the pillows, and leans forward on his elbows.

"They've just vanished!"

A smile comes to his lips, and he has to curl his hand around his mouth in order to hide it and makes a show of looking down to his feet with great sadness. "Whatever shall I do?" He sighs an exaggerated deep sigh. "I'm going to be so lonely now."

Another giggle, and the sound of little hands and feet patting against the stone flooring comes from the bed to his right.

"Nu-uh!"

"No!"

Two little bodies curl around his knees and he looks up with exaggerated happiness, holding his hands up in surprise, and they giggle in excitement.

"My little friends!" He looks between them with surprise. "Where did you come from!"

"We were under the bed!"

"We were hidin'!"

He chuckles at their excitement. "You two are very good hiders. I couldn't find you anywhere I looked!"

"We're sneaky!"

"We're the best at hiding!"

The older angel chuckles again, pulling them up to sit in his lap, and they squirm around to get comfortable. "Do you want to play again?"

"Nis wants to play again!"

"You count!"

Nisroc smiles, chuckling softly as he nods his head. "I'll count." Little Akeelah pokes his cheek and her little friend Jezaniah giggles softly. "Close your eyes!"

He closes his eyes, curling his fingers over them, and begins to count. The little fledglings giggle brightly and jump off his lap to hide again, they'd end up under the bed again, they always chose to hide under the bed, and he'd put on the same show every time, much to their delight.


	5. Chapter 5

"Oren, what's wrong with your brother?"

The Captain of the Virtues looked up from his wound binding to meet the gaze of his Archangel commander in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he contemplated the words, and his eyebrows scrunched up together. "What's wrong with my brother?" He took a moment to think on it. "Which one?"

"Your youngest brother."

The healer looked confused even still, so the Healer nodded over his shoulder, to what lay to be witnessed behind him. Oren turned to peer over his shoulder, looking around for a moment, until his eyes came to sit on the figure his commander had been watching.

Sitting up in his bed, hunched over on himself, shoulders quaking.

"I can finish up here." God's Healer nodded to the distraught angel behind them. "Go tend to your youngest brother."

Oren nods in appreciation, setting his bandages down in order to tend to the one who most needed his help, standing from the chair he had taken, he wheeled it back out of his way, and cut through the moving stream of healers to come to the end of the youngest brother's bed.

"Hey, hey," he rubbed his head lightly, gently curling his fingers down under his chin. "Hey, what's the matter?"

The younger angel shakes his head, rubbing the evidence of his tears away as quickly as he can manage when his head is lifted, sniffling deeply in an attempt to calm his breathing.

His older brother's left hand reaches to stop him from wiping away his tears, the evidence of his distress, and curls his fingers around the smaller hand gently. "Don't do that, its okay to be upset, talk to me baby brother."

"Y—Y—You gu—guys do—don't stop—p anym—more!"

"We don't stop?" He strokes his thumb over the back of the younger's hand. "Don't stop to see you?"

The distraught youth nods. "I—I sl—sleep all al—alone no—now!"

"Oh, Zaves." He presses his lips to the back of his captured little hand before letting it go and reaches forward to curl his fingers around the back of his head. "You never said anything. We thought you didn't want us to stay with you anymore." He pulls the distraught younger angel closer, curling his arms around him comfortingly, and the little messenger curls up against him. "But if you do, we'll stay with you, all you had to do was ask."

"I—I wa—want you—u to—to!"

"Alright, alright." Oren strokes his fingers through the curls on the back of his youngest brothers head. "I'll stay with you. I'm not going anywhere." He leans forward. "Lets lay back down, okay?"

Zaveriel whines when his brother pulls away, tears coming back to his eyes, sue him for acting like a fledgling, he had no flock and his Archangel had left him, he wanted his big brothers to comfort him. Oren settles in on the side of his bed, pulling him down against his side, curling his arm over his shoulders. Zave's sniffles and nuzzles down against his chest, his hand clutching at his older brothers tunic just before his nose, sighing wheezily as fingers stroke over his cheek.

"You just close your eyes, baby brother, we'll take care of everything."

"D'nt go 'nywhere."

He shakes his head. "Your big brothers will take care of you, now."

Zaveriel nodded, only slightly, a sleepy nod.

…

"What on earth are they doing?"

Oren looked up from the file he had been reading, meeting the eyes of his Archangel first, and turned to peer over his shoulder. A grin slowly came over his features. And then he began to laugh.

He had promised his youngest brother that they would take care of him.

"It appears Ephraim and Akriel finished their rounds early."

"I would never have guessed that, Oren, thank you, truly."

Both Virtues sat at the end of the little messengers bed, one of their arms curled around one of his ankles, conversating amiably between each other, as they stroked their fingers over his captured soles. Zaves was curled up, his shoulders quaking again, clutching at the backs of their tunics tightly, as he laughed and laughed.

"You asked."

"If you give me _one _more cheeky comment, I will have you in the same position before you can even blink."

Oren choose that as his moment to turn and walk away from him and called over his shoulder. "Shouldn't have asked if already knew!"

…

Raphael raised an eyebrow as he came to stand next to his apothecary, Zed spared him a kind glance in greeting, and turned back to sifting through his ingredients.

"What is he doing?"

The Virtue spared him another glance, reaching down to rub at the leg that crossed loosely around his waist, and hummed in success when he found what he was looking for. "Sleeping. Please don't wake him up."

"I would never." He rubs a small circle against the messengers back, he mumbles in his sleep, rubbing his cheek against his older brothers shoulder peacefully. "How has he not fallen off yet?"

Zed smiles in amusement, pausing for a moment to shake his head. "I have absolutely no idea. I'm trying to not move too much lest I inadvertently make him fall."

His younger brother had hopped on his back as a joke, watching him bend over the table mixing together his concoctions, and had managed to find himself a position comfortable and stable enough to fall asleep.

"I could take him, if he is causing too much disturbance to your work."

"No, no." The apothecary shook his head. "He's a warm weight. And, besides, I'm just about done now, anyway." He set the filled jars aside. "No use the possibility of waking him up now. I'll make my rounds and put him to bed."

…

He was riding on another back, this time as the older angel walked through the beds under the flickering light the candles keeping the room lit in their glow under the night sky, peacefully asleep just the same as the other patients under their care.

"Constantine, why don't you set him down?"

The medic rubbed his hand over the leg under his fingers, standing once more from pulling the blankets up over his patients shoulders, not hindered in the slightest from the extra weight he carried.

"It's alright. He's making sure I stay physically fit." His partner hums deeply in slumber and nuzzles closer. "And, this is my last round for the rest of the night. I promised I would sleep with him, so we're going to bed after I finish up."

"Very well." The Healer turned to make his own rounds. "You all spoil him too much."

"As if you don't!"


	6. Chapter 6

"Sir, we've got another situation."

Raphael looked up from the papers he'd been working through at the sound of his Captain's voice, meeting his concerned gaze with one of his own, and he tilts his head in curiosity at what had his dearest Captain so distraught. "What is it, Oren?"

The Virtue looks over his shoulder. "I think you should see for yourself." He made a face. "It's rather archaic."

Confusion clouding his features and mind, the Healer nods, standing from his chair. As he crossed around from behind his desk, he gestured for his Virtue to lead the way for him, meeting at his side quickly. "Show me what has you so troubled."

Oren nods quickly, turning on his heel, and he follows dutifully behind him as he's guided down the hall that leads to his office and into the spacious room of his Infirmary. It's a female that waits for him, her back to him as he approaches, with long dark hair and rigid muscles, Akriel has hold of her chin and he's frowning deeply as he examines what seems to be their shared concern.

Ephraim looks up from his brothers direct right, elbowing the fellow Virtue in the arm lightly, and Akriel looks up at his approach.

"What seems to be the trouble here?"

The unknown female with the long brown hair finally turns, and he looks into those dulled mischievous eyes, this is the one that their Father is so fond of, His spunky little scribe. The one that replaced the traitor, who spoke her mind whether she was permitted to or not, always had a witty remark on her tongue, chattering about anything and everything that came to her mind, a free spirit stuck in humanoid form. And, now she stares up at him with pain, the pain more emotional than physical, though he knows she feels that too. Her silence is unsettling. And her lips just as equally so, they're sewn shut, rather sloppily. A symbolic gesture.

He reaches a gentle hand out of her cheek, caressing it softly, and she sighs in comfort. Poking lightly at the corner of her lips, the archangel leans forward, looking over the crude stitching with the trained eyes of a healer. "Oh, little Ishariel." He rubs his thumb over her cheek bone. "Was this Metatron's doing?"

She nods silently, no noise to be made with her bindings, and he sighs sadly. A symbolic gesture indeed, there was only one reason that the banished scribe would do such a thing, and it all led his thoughts back to the trial they had held for their betrayers before Father and Aunt went to see the Galaxy together.

Metatron was a spiteful little cretin and if he ever had the opportunity to have a moment alone with him, he would show him pains that he had never felt before, if only for doing this to someone like young Ishariel.

His other hand raises to curl around her other cheek. "You're not going anywhere. You are mine now. I will keep you from your abuser myself. Let's get you taken care of." She nods silently, the silence unsettling to them all, and he nods over her head to his Virtues. They disperse at his dismissal, returning to what they had been doing before their newest patient arrived, and he turned back to his newest charge.

Ishariel clutches at his hand as the Healer guides her to an empty bed, sitting her gently on the edge, he strokes her cheek lightly. "Let me grad a few things and then we'll take a look."

Knowing she has no choice, the young scribe nods silently, watching him step away with wide attentive eyes. Raphael gathers up a pair of scissors, a vial of disinfectant, and a clean cloth. Pulling the chair out form behind the desk at the head of her bed, he sits before her, handing over the vial and cloth. "Hold these for me?" Ishariel takes them into her grasp.

Her fingers curl tightly when he too takes hold of her chin, tilting her head upwards for a better angled view of the stitch work, he brushes a finger under her chin when he feels her stiffen. "It's alright, little Isha." She nods, despite his grip on her chin, and he hums deep in his chest as he goes back to examining her lips.

Raphael frowns deeply. "His hand is rather crude, I can't imagine these went in cleanly, there is so much tearing." He turns her head lightly to the left. "This is barbaric." And then to the right. "Even for us." He turns her back around to meet her gaze. "But nothing that we can't take care of. We'll get you fixed up as good as new."

Ishariel nods again, her hands shaking lightly in her lap, the Healer wants nothing more than to comfort her in that moment, she looks so hurt and afraid, but all things come in time.

The archangel holds the scissors up for her to see. "I'm going to begin snipping them free, alright?" He nods when she does. "You may feel a pulling sensation for a few moments."

She closes her eyes as he pulls lightly on the end stitch, and flinches at the sound of the first snip, the thread popping softly, broken in two. The snipping of the stitches come at a steady pace and she goes crosseyed to watch him steadily make his way through them, cutting through each sloppily made stitch after stitch.

Finally, he sets the scissors aside, holding out his hand for the vial and cloth she holds. Ishariel passes them to her older brother, Raphael smiles at her gently, as he pulls the stopper free and tips it over the cloth gently, quickly. "I'm going to pull them free. This part may sting a bit."

The young scribe nods, fingers curling in the blanket under her, bracing herself for it. Ishariel flinches when he pulls the first one free, dabbing the disinfectant covered rag against the holes that were torn into her lips. A soft whine escapes her.

"I'm almost done, little one." He focuses on the delicate task at hand as he speaks to her. "Then I am going to give you the biggest of hugs."

His young charge whines again, her hand reaching out to curl into his tunic, and he works quickly through his task. As he finishes, he sets his things aside, and opens his arms for the muted scribe. Now, he can comfort her. "Come here, little Isha." Her eyes water dangerously as she leans forward, burying her face in his chest, as her tears softly dampen his tunic.

Raphael curls his arms around her tightly, rubbing her back comfortingly, stepping forward slightly to sit beside her on the bed. "You're going to be well taken care of here." He reaches a hand up to cradle the back of her head. "You'll be protected. And you can rest and heal."

Ishariel nodded against his chest, pulling away slightly to rub at her face, and he caught her hands gently. Staying them from wiping away the evidence of her tears, and leaned forward to kiss her nose, smiling when she gave him a watery smile. "Let's get you a change of clothes and then into bed. It is nearly twilight."

Her voice was a faint whisper. "Thank you, big brother."

"Always."

…

They watched from the safety of the entry way of the Infirmary as they rushed forward, dodging through the guards, fighting back as they needed, in their attempts to get to the safety the Infirmary offered. They watched in morbidity as some were felled up, and dragged away for the Prisons, the oldest archangels rage over his brothers sanctuary still as violent as ever.

Two, a youngling boy clutching the hand of a fledgling, both dirty and bruised, slid under the legs of a guard and stumbled back to their feet as they ran for the open doors. Raphael knelt for them, holding his arms open for them both, urging them to run faster.

The poor little fledgling stumbled, narrowly missing the outstretched hands of a guard, but his older friend pulled him forward sharply and they both stumbled at the sudden momentum. At the last moment, the little fledgling finally tripped, falling forward, crying out as he did, and his friend tugged him forward again. Putting his entire body into it, he turned and tugged as much as he could, sending them both tumbling backwards.

Both little boys stared ahead in terror as guards ran after them, fingers gripping their spears and swords tightly, and looked up when arms curled around them and lifted them from their sprawled position on the stone flooring. The guards halted in their advance, as one boy looked down at the dark toned arm curled around his waist and the other looked up to see their saviors harsh eyes, paying them no mind as he glared at their pursuers.

"You wouldn't _dare_."

They backed away from the Archangel, shaking their heads in stony silence, and the Healer nodded firmly.

"Wise decision." He turned away from them, taking the young ones with him, the only ones who had managed to make it to the safety within his arms. "Close the doors, Oren."

There would be another attempt from another group come the next night, trying to use the cover of night as their shield from being spotted, but for now he would care for these two little ones. He looked down to them, smiling when he caught them staring up at him in awe, squeezing them close for a moment.

"Hello, little ones, do you remember me?"

The older one nodded immediately. "Of course, we remember you, Rapha!" his young companion nodded in agreement. "I remember you too!"

Raphael chuckles lightly. "That makes me so happy to hear, Paul, Sashael." He walks slowly down the aisle, towards a group of beds. "I remember you two too." He spots who he is searching for and smiles again. "Do you remember them?" They follow the direction he nods in, and their eyes widen, squirming to be set down.

"Nis!"

He bends slightly to set them on their feet. The Powers' Captain looks up at the call of his name, eyebrows drawn in confusion for a moment, and leans forward to look down the aisle when it becomes evident that it wasn't the Healer had called out to him.

The Power's on his feet in an instant, his brothers following him, gather at his side as he rushes forward for the two young boys running for him. Nisroc drops to his knees as they collide into him, pushing him back slightly from the impact, and he wraps them in his arms. His brothers smile at their young ones return, gathering around them, kneeling to welcome them back, rubbing their heads and their backs as they clutch to their guardian tightly. Akeelah and Jezaniah come up behind the Captain, smiling at them from over his shoulders, waving excitedly at their friends arrivals.

Nisroc looks up at him from over his fledglings head, smiling in thankfulness, and the Healer gives a brief nod in return.

"They're in good hands."

He turns at the voice, Oren smiles in greeting, watching the three of them reunite. And gives a nod as he himself turns back to watch them pick themselves up from the floor, Zed leading them forward with a hand full of tonic jars and soap, to the washroom in the back.

"Better than mine could ever be."

"So, we're keeping them."

Raphael nods. "We're keeping them."


	7. Chapter 7

They watch at the open entrance of the Infirmary as another group attempts their way across the threshold into the safety that is offered within its walls, frowning at the struggles as they slam into the guards, their beaten fingers curling tightly around the staffs of their spears as they attempt to force their way in. The guards hack and slash and push and punch, attacking in any form possible to keep them from their goal of safety.

One guard manages to catch a limping angel as he runs as best as he could past him, spearing him in the side, it slows him up for a moment, but there is a determination in his eyes that's hard to come by these days, and he breaks the tip of the spear and continues on, managing to make his way forward, collapsing into the arms of two of his healers. They whisk him away.

A little one makes their way through the crowd again, ducking under legs and bumping into bodies, as they struggled to get through the crowd to the safety of the Infirmary. This was the chance they needed, the only one they'd get, and they'd do anything to make it there. She looked up at them, her eyes widening at the sight of the Healer kneeling for her, beckoning her forward with his hands, arms raised outstretched for her. She just had to run into them, had to get close enough for him to snatch her up, this was what she had waited for all this time, waited and watched, hiding in her hiding spot. She was almost there, just a few more paces, she could almost feel his long warm fingers curling around her middle as he lifted her from her feet.

She scream when a hand curled around her wrist, yanking her back, she looks over to the Healer in terror. He's still kneeling, urging her forward, waiting for her to fall into his arms. So, the fledgling girl yanked on her arm, surprising the guard who captured her, and she stumbles forward, tears streaming down her face, blurring her vision, as she runs for the only one who can keep them from taking her away.

And then she feels it, as she stumbles over her feet, she feels the hands snatch her up around the middle. The warm chest she's pressed to. The solid shoulder her head's guided to lay on. She feels the soft tunic he wears, smells the ozone and pine needles he smells like, hears the soft thrum of his electrifying grace under her ear.

He turns, she feels it, and the sounds of the yelling guards fade as they walk away. "You're alright now, I've got you." She looks up at him with wide eyes and he smiles, leaning forward to kiss her nose, and she scrunches up her face at the soft playful peck. "Let's see that wrist." He holds his free hand out, palm up, fingers spread. His other arm curled under her bottom, fingers curled around her thigh, and she tenderly sets her little hand into his.

The Healer tsk's as he examines the little appendage. "Just a bit of a bruise. It'll fade with time." He tucks her hand up against her chest. "And you'll have all the time you need here. We'll get you cleaned, fed, and rested."

"You have food?" There's awe in her tone and it breaks his heart. "That I can eat?"

"Yes, we most certainly do." He nods in assurance. "Stew. Perfect for a cool brisk night like this one." Raphael brushes a finger down the bridge of her nose, taping the tip of it lightly, and she smiles slightly. "We'll get you a new tunic to wear, you're much too small for the trousers, and cleaned up. Then, we'll get you a nice warm bowl and a soft bed."

She nods softly and he smiles gently. "What's your name, little one?"

"Haziel."

"That's a pretty name." The archangel pokes her in the belly. "For a very pretty fledgling."

Haziel giggles softly when he pokes her in the belly again, pressing closer to his chest, and he chuckles softly at her reaction. "My, my, someone's got a sensitive tummy." He wiggles his fingers over it, and she giggles brightly, squirming softly on his arm, and he carries on for a minute longer before letting go. "Those giggles are quite heartwarming."

She watches as he turns his attention away for a moment, reaching into the cupboard they've come to stand before, taking one of the soft tunics in hand and tucks it under the arm that holds her as he reaches back in for a large drying towel. He gives her a wink. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

Her eyes try and take everything in when it comes to her new surroundings, she's never been inside the Infirmary before, and she wants to take it all in from the safety of the Archangels arm. Healers smile at them as they pass, carrying on their duties, even a few of the Virtues smile in greeting to her, and she ducks into the older angels shoulder when they do, as any shy child was wont to do.

After she's bathed, she's settled at a table, a warm blanket curled around her shoulders and a bowl of stew the perfect size for a fledgling is set in front of her. A big, warm hand settles on her head. "Eat up, little Haziel." She nods excitedly, her little fingers curling around the spoon just a bit too big for her and scoops a piece of potato up and into her mouth, munching on it happily. He chuckles in amusement, stroking his hand down the back of her head. "I'll be right over there, if you need me."

…

It's one of those days that they stand watching the guards keep those who need them from entering, whether it be from real need or simple desire remains to be seen, but they're needed none the less, and it kills them to watch their would be patients be carried off to the Prison for doing what they knew they needed to do.

It catches them all by surprise, the guards and healers alike, when one of the guards finally drops from his stone like position. His spear clatters to the ground, and he turns from his place, walking up the remaining stairs to the doors of the Infirmary. He doesn't meet the Healers eyes, though he knows his arms to be crossed, looking down to his feet.

"What can I do for you?"

There's no spite in his tone, the Healer is to good for that, but the anger that rumbled deep in his chest is clear.

"I come to ask if you will take me in."

"I see," he feels the Healer adjust his position slightly. "And, what ails you?"

"My head."

"I see, and you wish for me to grant you a place among my patients."

"I regret what I've done." He shakes his head. "I don't…I don't know why I did it."

"Let me see your head." The Healer curls a few fingers under his chin and tilts his head back, brushing sticky, sweaty hair out of his way, frowning as he gazes upon something, he had dreaded there would ever be a day he'd see it. "I'll find you a bed."

He curls his free hand over his shoulder and guides him inside, the only new patient taken in without the threat of being captured by one of the guards, being one himself, they were too surprised to stop him. "You look too young to be a guard, how old are you?"

"He's barely twelve years."

They turn at the new voice, standing there, his arms crossed lightly, is Titus. He smiles to the Healer in greeting, a gesture in which is returned just as kindly, he knew this guard rather well.

"Andreus."

_"Titus."_

He steps forward, the young angel, out from under his hand. Titus follows suit, his arms coming undone, raising them as they slowly meet each other. He wraps him in close, they sway from side to side as they clutch each other, the young angel pressing himself as close to the elder as he can.

"He's so young. What on earth is my brother _thinking_?"

Raphael smiles slightly at the two of them and the clear friendship they held, if he didn't know any better, he would have been brought to think that the Power had taken the young boy under his wing. He shakes his head, stepping forward, laying a hand on both of their shoulders, and they pull apart.

"Well, no more of that." He rubs a hand over the young guards hair and frowns as he pulls his hand away. "I think we'll get you bathed first. You're covered in sweat." He leans forward slightly in slight playfulness. "And, quite frankly, it's kind of disgusting."

"I can't help it."

"I know you can't." He eyes the thick chainmail in distaste. "That's much too heavy for this type of heat." He shakes his head lightly. "We'll get you out of that and into something lighter, we'll find a tunic and some trousers that'll fit that slight frame, and if not," he shrugs slightly. "Well, we'll just make it work."

The Healer gestures in the direction he wants them to go in. "Let's get you cooled down and cleaned up. Your skin is glistening. Skin should not glisten."

Andreus smiles slightly at his teasing tone of voice and follows him, Titus at his side once more, his Power curls his hand over his shoulder. A physical sign to show that he was there. The Healer is so much different then what he had expected him to be, he was expecting someone so much harsher, firmer, tougher, like his commander was. But the Archangel of Healing was nothing like that. He was kind, where his archangel was harsh, playful where his archangel was firm, and gentle where his archangel was tough.

He gestured to the dimly lit hall. "The washroom is just within. Take your time. There is no rush."

The youngling nods slightly. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't call me _'sir'_, I'm not nearly as formal as my brother is." He pat his cheek lightly. "And, you are most welcome."

…

"You seem to have them quite captivated."

They story stopped for a moment, the fledglings whining at the pause, having been hooked on every word he spoke. The Power Captain turned to look up at their new guest, smiling to the Healer in greeting, shaking his head in amusement. "We seem to live quite captivating lives."

"Niiiiissssss!"

They share a chuckle at the whine from the little fledgling girl.

"You'd best return to your story, then." Raphael shakes his head in amusement. "Before they begin to riot."


	8. Chapter 8

"You look rather warm." He's leaning against the doorframe to the Infirmary, safely within it's boundaries, though he doubts any of these guards would dare try and take him to their commander, they may not be on the same page anymore, but they knew he was an immovable force to be reckoned with, rather well. "It's quite a hot day to be wearing such heavy materials." Just as he says it, a bead of sweat drips from her hair line, down the side of her face, she wavers slightly but maintains her position at her post. "You must be thirsty too, I've been standing here for nearly an hour, and you haven't dropped for one ladle of water." He smirks when he hears her swallow thickly. He gestures to her arms. "Your arms must be sore too, you've been holding that sword in that position since sun rise." He tugs at his tunic lightly. "A nice clean tunic, light for this heated weather, perhaps a new pair of trousers. Not sticky and warm from sweat." His smirk returns when he sees her fingers twitch around the hilt of her sword. "A nice tall glass of cool water, all yours, to share with no one." She licks her dry lips lightly. "A nice cool bed to take a nap on." He reaches out and digs his fingers into her shoulder, massaging the muscle lightly, and she leans into his touch, her position slouching slightly. "Someone rubbing that tension away until you're nice and relaxed."

They're new focus was the guards posted outside the Infirmary doors, the more they pulled into their grasp, the less they had to worry about interfering with those trying to get to the Infirmary for tending to, and it was less people under Michael's control.

There was no one better to pull them into their grasp then there own captain, no one knew them quite like Titus knew them, he was their secret weapon.

"Does that sound nice?"

She bites her lip tightly, nodding once, stiffly. "That does sound nice."

He smiles at her, though she can't see it, she hasn't looked over her shoulder to him yet, but he knows he has her at the breaking point. He reaches around her and taps the hilt of her sword, her fingers, with a single finger of his. "All you have to do is put your sword down and it can all be yours."

"All of it?"

"To the very last detail."

Her fingers twitch around the hilt of her sword, and she shuffles lightly, he knows her partner just across from them is staring at her from the corner of his eye, he'll deal with him in a few minutes, he was working on her right now.

"And I can stay?"

"Until the Healer deems you well enough to leave."

Titus doesn't have many female guards, and, perhaps, they're stronger then their male counterparts, under the assumption that they had something to prove. This one was as stubborn as they come, he's been working on her for a little over an hour, and it seems as though he is finally getting under her skin.

"All you have to do is simple, you just have to put your sword down and step in, that's it. That's all. And then you get all the comfort you can imagine."

She licks her lips again, shuffling anxiously, and her eyes finally drop to her sword.

"Aeshma, no." Her partner finally calls out, and he turns to face him too, the guard quickly snaps back around. "Hush, Temeluch, this is her decision to make and hers alone." Titus turns back to the guard he stands behind. "Come on, Aeshma, I'll even give you a hug."

"A hug?"

"A great big, big brother sized, bear hug."

"Aeshma, don't do it, he's tempting you."

Finally, her head snaps around, her piercing green eyes boring into her brothers across from her, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her sword. "But I _want_ it, Teme." "Esh, be strong." "I—I…." She looks down at her sword, he's still massaging at her shoulder, Titus has never been one to give up. "I _want_ it."

Titus smiles, at a job well done, he holds the record on getting guards to abandon their post to come inside with them. Though his involvement in it's own may be cheating, no one knows his guards better then he does. He pulls his hand back as she bends, holding her knees slightly, and sets her sword down on the warm stone panel underneath her, her pony tail whips around as she turns quickly. Aeshma wants all those things; the cool drink of water, the new trousers and tunic, to get out of this heavy material, a nice cool bath, a bed to nap on, someone rubbing her shoulders and back, and that great big hug. She wants all of it.

The Power smiles at her, stepping away from the doorframe he leans against, and opens his arms for her. "You just have to step through, and you'll get that great big hug you want. You get it all. Every single bit." Perhaps he can snag two birds with one stone. "Do you want a hug too, Teme?" He knows the other guard has heard everything he's said, he knows it's a rather tempting offer, it's hard to pass up. He watches the muscles in the other guards shoulders tense up, he bites his lip harshly, and exhales a deep breath.

Temeluch nods as he bends to set his sword down between his feet.

Titus smiles at them both, and gestures them forward, his arms held open for them. Aeshma meets him first, quickly, ramming into his right side and he curls his arm around her tightly. Temeluch is a bit more hesitant, at first, but folds around his left side rather fluidly when he makes it there, and he curls his arm around him as well. The both of them nuzzle close, clutching at his tunic tightly, and he smiles down at them both fondly. He can feel the heat rising from their skin, the dampness of their sweat, and he tugs them around carefully. "Lets go get you two taken care of."

They slowly unfolds from around him as he shuffles them forward, though they don't duck out from under his arms, as he leads them away from the doors. Two more guards will be posted there by morning and he'll start all over again, he has yet to fail, unlike the others.

The Healer waits for them, holding two pairs of trousers and two tunics, he smiles to them all in greeting as they approach. "Tus, you never fail to deliver." He nods to the two guards. "Who might these two be?"

Titus smiles at him, winking playfully. "I know my guards _very _well." He rubs the females arm lightly. "Aeshma." And then the male on his other side. "Temeluch."

"Tell me, what sealed the deal?"

The Power hums in amusement. "I said I'd give them a hug."

The Archangel chuckles in amusement, holding the clean clothing out to the two guards, and they take it silently. "We'll get you cleaned up first, the sooner we get that layer of sweat off your skin, the sooner you can start to cool down." He gestures for them to follow from over his shoulder as he turns to lead the way. "We'll have two beds made up for you by the time you finish washing up, a tall glass of cool water waiting for you, you'll drink lots of water, so you don't get dehydrated." He winks at them from over his shoulder. "And, of course, someone to rub away that tension in your shoulders." He turns, gesturing for the washroom behind him. "I expect we'll have you two down and napping within the hour." He frowns lightly. "Which would do you two some good."

Temeluch and Aeshma look away from the Archangel and up to their captain, Titus smiles down at them both, squeezing them close to his sides, and rubs at their arms. "Go get cleaned up, I'll be waiting here for you."

They nod and part from his side, walking timidly beside the Healer, down the hall to the washroom. Raphael parts from the wall, to stand at the Power's side, and together they survey the number of sleeping guards around the Infirmary. Seven in total, sleeping soundly, like little fledglings, curled against their pillows and under their sheets. It's much too hot for blankets. All it took was a few minutes of their captain's time, some of his undivided attention, and they were out like little lights.

He'd hand it to him, no one knew the guards quite like Titus did, and no one ever would.


End file.
